by L. L. Frost
SUCCUBUS BARGAIN: THE OFFER
Copyright © 2017 by L.L. Frost
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover design by L.L. Frost
Book design by L.L. Frost
Printed in the United States of America.
First Printing, 2017
Succubus Bargain
The Offer
The Deal
The Terms
The Rules
The Gain (Coming Soon)
Table of Contents
HelloHell Delivery
Energy Rights
(un)Lucky
The Offer
About the Author
HelloHell Delivery
“Excuse me, ma’am.” A teenage kid nods politely at me as he holds the door and waits for me to shuffle through into the coffee shop.
I push my sunglasses tighter against my face and pause inside for a moment while my eyes to adjust to the interior lighting that casts a shadowed haze over the round, crowded tables and leather upholstered chairs.
With a shiver, I pull the voluminous sweatshirt closer, despite the mid-July heat. My skin aches, tight and itchy with a dryness no amount of moisturizer can smooth away. I’ve abstained from my energy feedings too long, and now my body devours itself to stay alive.
My nostrils flare in search of the telltale scent of another demon and find none. Instead, I breathe in the bitter, rich aroma of coffee, and under it, the warm, salty musk of humans. Saliva fills my mouth, my jaw aching with hunger. Every person I pass smells like a walking happy meal right now.
I search the room in case my senses are failing, but I’m the only demon in the small shop. My contact hasn’t shown up yet. When I check my watch, I discover I arrived a few minutes early. Giving myself a few more minutes before I left home would have allowed me to avoid being surrounded by so much temptation. But hunger got the better of me, and I’d left the apartment in such a hurry I forgot my wallet.
Luckily, the jeans I grabbed still have cash in the pockets. I can buy a coffee to warm myself up while I wait.
Despite the crowd, no line forms at the counter, and I make my way further into the store, hands stuffed into my pockets to keep them away from temptation.
“Welcome, ma’am!” The young man behind the counter smiles, bright white teeth flashing in his tanned face. “What can I get for you, today?”
He gets bonus points for not giving me a strange look at my unusual attire. Fur-lined boots and a giant sweatshirt stand out amid the brightly colored shorts and tank tops worn by most of the patrons. With my white hair, tipped blue at the ends, and the pallor of my skin, he probably assumes I’m a goth transplant from one of the big cities.
“Large, raspberry mocha, extra whip.” I lick my dry lips as my gaze drops to the tempting pink of his narrow mouth.
His hand hovers over a stack of cups, unaware of his danger. “Iced?”
“Hot, please.”
He pulls one of the large, cardboard cups from a stack and poises a sharpie over it. “Name?”
“Adie.” I rip my eyes away from the pink flash of tongue and turn my attention to the food display.
“Would you like anything to eat?”
His super happy tone grates on my nerves, and I want to drag him over the counter and shut him up with my mouth. Nails digging into my palms, I force a smile. “No, thank you.”
He taps at the screen in front of him for a moment. “That will be eight fifty-three.”
I frown. “You can’t be serious.”
The bright smile wobbles for a moment in uncertainty as he points upward. “You ordered a large mocha with an add flavor, right?”
Above his head, the menu board lists out the prices. He’s really not kidding. When did coffee become so expensive?
“Yeah, that’s right.” I pull out my wad of dollar bills, unfolding them one at a time as I make a mental note to jack up the cost of the espresso I plan to serve at my future bakery.
Over the buzz of conversation, the bells at the entrance jingle, followed by the quiet clip of dress shoes against tiled floor. The cashier’s smile spreads into a full-on grin as he glances over my shoulder at the new customer.
The smell of ozone curls around me to tickle at my senses. A demon. My fingers spasm, and the last bill falls to the floor.
“Here, allow me.” The throaty purr drags along my too sensitive skin like the finest silk sheets.
I lean my hip against the low counter and risk a peek as he crouches to retrieve the money. Dark, chestnut-brown hair forms neat waves across the top of his head. Broad shoulders stretch the limits of his black suit jacket, and designer jeans lovingly outline strong, muscular thighs.
He rises smoothly to his feet and holds out the crinkled dollar bill. Black eyes meet mine from beneath thick eyebrows, and my lips part, dragging the metallic burn of his scent across my tongue and into my belly.
If humans are happy meals, this demon is triple-chocolate decadence cake.
His eyes narrow, nostrils flaring as he takes in my own scent, and he frowns. Annoyance ripples through me, squashing some of my excitement. He’s not what I expected either, but he doesn’t need to look so surprised. I snatch the bill from his fingers and turn back to the cashier to finish paying for my over-priced mocha.
“How long will my coffee take?” I demand, rude and not giving a damn about it. I just need to get this over with quickly.
His boss should give him a raise from the way his smile stays in place. “There’s two online orders ahead of you, but it shouldn’t be more than five minutes.”
I ignore the change he tries to hand back and stuff my hands into my pockets. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Down the hall to the left.” He points toward a service hall hidden behind the barista stand, where a sign announces the restrooms.
“Thanks.” With a pointed glance at the demon behind me, I shuffle toward the hallway.
“What can I get for you, sir?” A new level of warmth fills the cashier’s voice as the demon takes my place.
“A small drip coffee, please.”
The unisex sign on the door swings as I push it open and step inside, letting the door shut behind me.
The single occupant bathroom makes an effort at coziness. Painted warm coffee-brown, with dim lighting and a box of potpourri in a basket next to the sink, it mostly masks the lemon cleaner they used to sanitize the place recently. Quiet music, flutes and a guitar melody, filters in through speakers on the wall. My tennis shoes squeak across the tiles, and I poke at the dried contents of the basket with distaste. Lavender and cider. How disgusting. Like old people smell.
At least they didn’t use any frankincense. That nasty stuff makes me sneeze for days.
A moment later, the door opens and closes behind me, followed by the snick of the lock. I meet the demon’s eyes in the mirror. “Julian sent you? From HelloHell Delivery?”
His eyes widen for a moment before he nods.
“You ordered a meal?” He shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it from
the hook on the back of the door. “Succubus don’t usually let themselves get so…”
“You’re not being paid to care about my appearance.” I shove away from the sink and march over to him, determined to get this over with.
Why I let my cousin talk me into a mail order meal still bewilders me. I blame desperation brought on by my forced crash diet from human contact. I’m officially the first succubus in demon history to lack the ability to feed through dreams.
Physically going out to feed myself takes so much time and effort, which I don’t have while I work to get my bakery up and running.
I grab the demon’s arm and tug him forward. “Sit on the toilet.”
“Whatever works for you.” His hands go to the hem of my sweatshirt. “Let’s make you more comfortable.”
I slap him away. “I don’t need that.”
He sprawls onto the toilet seat lid, long limbs spread wide. One eyebrow lifts as he stares up at me. “Won’t it be better for your wings?”
“Like a quick energy pull will get my wings out.” I lift shaky hands to his shoulders, dragging in another breath. He smells so delicious. My stomach tightens with anticipation.
“Are you sure?” His fingers trail up the outside of my leggings, leaving fire in their wake. “You seem pretty desperate.”
“Should food talk this much?” My hands move to cup his neck, and my skin stings where it touches his, like sleeping limbs waking up.
“Can I interest you in an upgrade?”
Unwillingly, my eyes drop to the front of his jeans. Something like that would hold me over better than the simple draw I paid for. But I’m not desperate enough to buy sex. Even if I could afford it. Which I can’t.
“What I ordered is enough.”
His hands drift higher. “I’ll give you a discount.”
“Shut up. My coffee’s going to get cold.” When his mouth opens again, I seal it with my lips.
His heat burns, the energy inside of him a swirl of lava waiting to fill me up. A shiver of surprise goes through me. I never would have imagined my cousin’s service would have such a powerful demon on the menu.
Especially not at the price I paid.
My thumbs stroke the rough stubble of his cheeks, and he opens wider to let me lap against his tongue. Power slides down my throat to spindle in my belly, easing the ache of hunger. The chill against my bones melts beneath this new warmth, and a whimper of relief escapes, my limbs shaking as I come back to life.
An answering purr rumbles in his throat as his tongue twines around mine. Our noses bump together as I tilt my head, diving deeper within his mouth to chase more energy.
Large hands cup my hips, then slide beneath my sweatshirt to graze bare skin. The muscles along my spine ripple, an ache spreading between my shoulder blades. My wings push against my skin, ready to slide free.
My eyes spring open in shock. That shouldn’t happen. I’m not a newly formed succubus, lacking all self-control. Intense black eyes stare into mine as if he can see right through my sunglasses.
Panting, I pull my mouth away. “Thank you for the meal.”
“You’re not done yet, are you?” He licks his lips, irises expanding to cover the whites of his eyes.
I shiver at the predatory gaze. Something doesn’t feel right. I need to leave. “It’s enough. Thank you.”
When I try to step back, he pulls me closer. “You paid for more. I can’t let you go half finished.”
His red lips tempt me to come back, to pull more energy, but I resist. “I’m full.”
“Liar.” His head moves closer to my stomach, nostrils flaring. “I can barely smell you.”
I wish I could say the same, but his scent fills the small bathroom with the metallic taste of thunderstorms. It licks across my body, thick enough to drink it from the air.
His power could be in me, a tempest that will fill me with enough energy to live for a month, if not longer. Hunger floods through me, sharper for being given a taste then told there would be no more. Temptation hooks into my resolve, tearing it into little pieces.
He smirks as he senses my weakness.
“Come here, little succubus. Let me feed you.” His fingers tug the strings of my hoodie, and helpless to resist the offer, my mouth returns to his.
Instead of waiting for me to take the lead, he invades my mouth. Energy comes too, stronger now as he pushes it into me with every thrust of his tongue against mine. My knees shake as the onslaught turns my bones to liquid.
Overwhelmed, I barely notice when his hands curl around the backs of my thighs, molding my body until I straddle his lap. The hard swell of his cock pushes against my core, and I whimper, ravenous for more.
His mouth leaves mine, teeth nipping at my lower lip. His hands on my hips rock me against the hard bulge. “Do you want that, little succubus?”
I do. It’s been so long since a man moved between my legs. My inner muscles clench around my empty core.
“I’ll give you what you need.” His throaty purr rolls like thunder over my throat, his breath heat lightning against my skin.
It will be magnificent. The hard proof presses against my entrance through the scant barrier of our clothes.
His hands slide under my sweatshirt once more to stroke up my spine. My muscles ripple, the brush of feathers pushing against my skin. “That’s it. Let your wings out. Show me how much you want it.”
Reality crashes back with the swiftness of a hammer blow. My cousin’s a professional. His employees would have firm instructions on my needs. We’d discussed this in advance. No up sales.
I shove the stranger away, his back thudding against the toilet’s porcelain water reservoir. “You’re not from HelloHell Delivery, are you?”
“Does it matter?” He arches one thick eyebrow. “I’ll give you better service than some low-level, gigolo demon.”
“Fucking hell.” My body abuzz with energy, I scramble off his lap.
He scowls. “What’s the problem with using me instead?”
“Where’s your gain?” I pat my empty pockets. Shit. I don’t have anything to pay him with for the energy draw. Demons don’t go around giving things away for free. “What were you going to get out of this?”
I should have stuck with humans. Stupid Cousin Julian, making this sound like an easier alternative.
He stands and adjusts his jeans, the front still sporting an impressive bulge. “Isn’t sex gain enough?”
“For an incubus it is.” My gaze rakes over him. “But you’re not one of my kind. What are you?” I sniff the air, unable to pinpoint his type. “Some kind of chaos demon?”
“Does it really matter?” He stalks forward, a predator on the hunt.
“Fuck yes, it does.” I back toward the door, reaching behind myself for the lock.
He could be some kind of collector. Is that why he wanted to see my wings? Does he want my feathers? Succubus feathers sell fast on the black market, a one hundred percent effective aphrodisiac.
“Hey, there’s nothing to be scared of.” He freezes, holding his hands up, palms faced toward me. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Who said I’m scared?” I fumble the lock open, and the bolt sliding free sounds like a gunshot in the small, tiled room.
His nostrils flare again, and he takes a tiny step forward. But the energy buzzing through me makes me fast, and I fling the door open, darting through to freedom.
He storms after me, but out in the open, I’m safe. The customers in the coffee shop give me an impenetrable shield. Demon law forbids exposing our race to humankind.
I stop at the coffee bar, where my large mocha waits. Next to it sits a small drip coffee.
The barista looks up as I take my beverage. “Hey, I was just about to throw that away. It’s been ready for ten minutes now.”
“Thank you.” I turn and find the demon right behind me, pulling his jacket back on. I shove the cup at him. “Here, payment. We’re even.”
He stares down at t
he cup, black eyes wide with disbelief. “I don’t want your treat.”
I grab his hand, his skin stinging against mine, and wrap his fingers around the mocha. “It’s all you’re getting.”
“Take it back.” He thrusts the cup at me.
“No.” I hide my hands behind my back. “It’s payment. If I take it back, I’ll still owe you.”
He stares at it for a moment in consideration. “I’ll throw it away, then.”
My lips part, hungry gaze dropping to the coffee. “But that’s mocha raspberry bliss.”
Gently, he sets it on the counter and steps away. “Barista, I do not want this coffee.”
The human behind the counter, busy pulling shots of espresso, glances at it in confusion. “Okay, dude, no problem. I’ll toss it in a second.”
I stare at the large cup, indecisive. The demon leans close, warm lips brushing against my ear. “I’ll see you around, little succubus.”
He takes the small cup of drip coffee off the bar and strides for the exit. His fine ass, in those hip-hugging jeans, mocks me the entire way. I could have had my nails in those luscious globes. But at what cost?
As soon as he leaves, I snatch the mocha and flee.
Energy Rights
“What the fuck, Adie?” My cousin, Julian, slams into my small apartment without knocking. “You stood up my guy. Don’t think you’re getting a refund.”
My fingers tighten around the cupcake in my hand, and I keep my eyes focused on the swirl of icing, determined to master the gradient rose in time for my presentation tomorrow at the bank.
Julian plops into the barstool across the counter from me. “Please tell me you weren’t so distracted by baking that you forgot?”
“I didn’t forget.” Biting my lip, I carefully spin the cupcake while making rainbow arches to form the outer petals.
“Then what happened?” He leans across the counter, head tilted to get a closer look at my face. When he takes in the rosy flush of my cheeks, his lips purse. “Shit, you should have called to cancel if you got your mojo back. Poor Philip waited at the coffee shop for over an hour.”
